


Two Hands Make Light Work

by halfsweet



Series: We're Dropped and Well-Concealed In Secret Places [3]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9133444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfsweet/pseuds/halfsweet
Summary: Brendon just wants to spend the entire weekend with Patrick, but he can't do so until Patrick finishes his work.So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Literally.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy it's already 2017 here! What better way to start off a new year other than somewhat decent Brentrick not-really smut
> 
> I swear I planned to post this next week when I've finished with my finals, but of course, instead of revising for my finals, I wrote this. And I know I won't be able to focus on anything if I don't get this out of the way, so, I hope you enjoy this!

Brendon loves Patrick, really. He loves his boyfriend, his stunningly awesome incredible, out-of-this-world and one-of-a-kind boyfriend, who is also his professor. So, by extension, he loves his professor.

Only, he doesn't. He hates it when Patrick is in his professor mode. Because, okay, the second they're out of campus, Patrick is supposed to take his role as his _boyfriend_ , not going on overtime as a _professor._

It's a Saturday night, and Patrick has spent the entire day marking and grading test papers rather than spending time with him.

Brendon's been looking forward all week for the weekend, because he gets to spend those times with his _boyfriend._ He gets to cuddle with his _boyfriend_. He gets to watch movies with his _boyfriend_. He gets to cook meals with his _boyfriend_.

And most importantly, he gets to fuck his _boyfriend._

But no. Patrick just _had_ to be a professor on that weekend.

On second thought, Brendon doesn't really mind about the last one. It's pretty hot to fuck his professor for once. Bending him over the front desk in the lecture hall, one cheek pressed against the surface, his pair of slacks and boxers pooled around his ankles, dress shirt clung to his skin with sweat. His back dipped and arched so beautifully, showing off his pretty ass littered with red handprints all over, taking all of him sogoodsonice _sofuckingtight ("Mr Urie!" The professor would wail out loud, fingers scraping against the tabletop for purchase)._ His little _'ah, ah, ah'_ s floating around the hall, getting higher and higher in pitch, impossible for anyone to miss, if there's anyone at all.

His hair would be a mess, disheveled in the sexiest way possible, and when he tugged on it to pull the professor up, the professor would let the loudest and breathiest moan ever, drool running down his chin, and his face would contort in pleasure- his brows pulled together, forehead creased, lips parted and bruised from being bitten and kissed roughly and also slicked from sucking him earlier.

His skin would be red and warm and damped with sweat, and the professor would beg him, his voice choked and wrecked, to just _"touch me, please, I'm so close, Mr Urie, pleasepleaseplease"_ , but he's not going to. He's going to make the professor come untouched. By this point, the professor would already tremble all over, overwhelmed with pleasure, and he's just a few more thrusts away. Five, _"ah-"_ , four, _"Mr Urie-"_ , three, _"please-"_ , two, _"I'm gonna-"_ , one-

"I know that look on your face."

Brendon snaps out of his daydream and glowers at his boyfriend, annoyed at having his wonderful and amazing and _fucking hot as hell_ daydream interrupted. "What?"

Patrick, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, without lifting his gaze from the test papers, just snorts in answer. "Please. You're thinking of sex again."

Pouting, Brendon slides down from the couch to sit behind Patrick, his legs stretched out so the older man is sitting between them. He winds his arms around Patrick's waist and drops his head on his back, nuzzling against the cotton tee. "Can we?"

"No."

" _Babe._ " He whines, long and loud, at the one-word answer. "It's been a _week_."

Patrick tilts his head and pokes him on the shoulder with the red pen he's holding. "Exactly. It's only a week, Bren. Not a month." Then, he returns back to marking the paper. "I think you and your insatiable sex drive can wait a little longer until I finish with all these papers."

Brendon sighs, a little gloom. Looks like he's not getting any anytime soon. "I'm a 22 year old with a constant supply of awesome sex from the guy I've been pining over for years. Sorry for my _insatiable_ sex drive."

"Apology accepted." Patrick replies dryly, then falls into silence as he reads the test paper. Brendon hooks his chin on Patrick's shoulder and takes a look at the paper. It's not Music Theory, that's for sure. It's a different subject, one that Dallon and Ryan are taking together, more advance, and not in his electives, sadly. He would love to be in another one of Patrick's class again.

"These kids, seriously." Patrick grumbles under his breath before making a few crosses with the red pen. He flips over to the next page, and a deep frown starts to appear. Brendon hums and kisses his shoulder. "Something wrong?"

"It's like they don't even pay attention in class." Patrick starts to rant, his hand gliding over the paper to mark the answers. Brendon rubs his sides to soothe him. "These kids are, what, seniors? Juniors? You've learned your basics when you're in your freshmen year, how can you forget them so easily?"

Brendon hides his smile and continues to calm his boyfriend down. He's cute when he's all ruffled up. "Like you said, we learned 'em in freshmen year. How are we supposed to know that we're going to use them again in the future?"

"You just- _you're supposed to know._ You're not even supposed to forget them in the first place." Patrick huffs out. This time, Brendon can't hide his small laugh, but immediately stops when Patrick elbows him, glaring. "Not funny, B."

"Maybe next time you can tell the freshmen to keep that in mind." Brendon pokes him on the cheek, grinning. Patrick mutters something under his breath before turning back to do his work. It's silent again between them, only broken by Patrick's occasional grumbles.

It's very obvious and very clear that Patrick is still annoyed, and since he's bored, Brendon has just the perfect solution.

He drops both his hands on Patrick's thighs leisurely, peeking to find that the professor doesn't seem to notice anything. He smiles and begins to slide his hands slowly down the thighs, one hand getting lower, nearer, closer-

"What are you doing?"

"Making you feel good." Brendon murmurs, his lips brushing against Patrick's neck, and they curl into a smirk when Patrick shudders under him. He rests one hand on the older man's knee, and the other on his inner thigh, fingers carelessly tracing through the thin pajama pants, trailing upwards until his thumb brushes against the crotch.

He doesn't miss the sharp intake of breath coming from Patrick, and he starts to kiss his neck, lips ghosting over the skin before he parts them, dragging his tongue slow, back and forth, tasting the sweet-smelling body wash that Patrick always uses. He lifts his mouth and blows a hot breath over it, then gently sinks his teeth into the skin.

As soon as he does that, he bites down hard and squeezes him through the pants at the same time.

"Oh, fuck-" Patrick gasps out, head thrown back on Brendon's shoulder as his eyelids flutter close, legs opening and spreading wide to accommodate the younger man. His hands fly out to grip at Brendon's wrist and thigh. "Brendon-"

"Just relax, babe." Brendon coos in his ear. "I got you."

Patrick lets out a small whimper in answer, his hips rocking for more friction. Brendon returns back to sucking on his neck where he's sure that the hickey can get covered. His hand, previously on Patrick's knee, trails upwards until it reaches the hem of his shirt, and he slips his hand underneath, caressing the soft stomach.

"B, c'mon-" Patrick pants out, his voice a little whiny, "-don't tease."

Smirking, he lets his hand wanders under Patrick's shirt until he reaches the nipple, lightly grazing his fingernail over it, and he's rewarded with a small moan.

Patrick is quickly growing hard under his hand, and, remembering that the reason he does this in the first place, Brendon taps Patrick on his thigh. Patrick lifts his hips up, and Brendon hooks his fingers into the elastic waistband of the pajama bottoms and his boxers, pulling them both down to the knees.

He turns around and reaches for the bottle of lube that he keeps hidden under Patrick's couch, then uncaps it, pouring a little onto the palm of his hand. Patrick twists his body to look at him and frowns. " _Why_ do you have that under my couch?"

"Uh-" Brendon gapes at him, not sure how to answer that question. He has it hidden there since a couple of weeks ago, just in case they ever need to use when they're in the living room and neither of them are bothered to go to the bedroom. Besides, there's no way of knowing when they'll be doing it on the couch. "A man's got to be prepared?"

Before Patrick can retort with something witty, Brendon grips him in the way that he knows will get Patrick desperate for more, and all of Patrick's words dissolved into moans.

" _Bren-_ " Patrick mewls as he tilts his head, giving Brendon more access to his neck.

He starts his rhythm slow, all the way up and all the way down, then repeats the motion, taking his own sweet time. He likes teasing Patrick, because when the older man starts to get impatient, he will whine and bitch - which is adorable, really - and that's when Brendon turns him into a moaning mess.

Patrick digs his fingernails into his thigh, and Brendon hisses slightly at the pain. "I- I thought I told you no teasing." Patrick throws him a glare, which would be scary if he weren't all flushed and panting with his erection in Brendon's hand.

"I told you. I got you." Brendon chuckles, his voice deep, and pinches his perky nipple. Patrick immediately arches his back, pressing into Brendon's touch as a loud moan rips from his throat. "Oh _God-_ "

He wipes his thumb on the tip, smearing pre-cum over it, and twists his hand on the way down. Patrick jerks at the sudden change in motion, groaning. Brendon starts to speed up his hand, twisting here and there, and squeezes every time he reaches the base. He feels like he's conducting a symphony, turning Patrick's moans into a masterpiece. And it's the most beautiful melody he's ever heard.

"Brendon-" Patrick chokes out as he writhes in his arms. "Bren- please- I need-"

Brendon doesn't stop his movements. He continues to stroke him and play with his nipple, and he can tell that Patrick is just seconds away from coming when his body starts to go tense. He moves from Patrick's neck to bite at his earlobe and kiss the spot behind his ear. "You can come whenever you want, babe."

Patrick comes after three strokes with a cry, spurting hot stripes all over Brendon's hand and his shirt. Brendon drops his hand to rub at the area just below Patrick's stomach as he strokes him through his orgasm.

When Patrick shakily places his hand over his, Brendon lets go of him, and he places his clean hand across Patrick's shoulders, pulling the professor towards him. Patrick rests his head in the crook of his neck, his breathing laboured as he tries to catch his breath.

Brendon can't help the small pang of possessiveness when he sees the angry red mark across Patrick's skin that he made earlier. He might have gone a little bit overboard with it, but he knows it can be hidden when Patrick wears his collared shirts. And maybe a little foundation. He places a kiss over it, like some sort of apology.

He stretches his arm and reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table to wipe his hand and clean Patrick up. After he's done, he sets the used tissues aside, making mental notes to throw them away in the trash later.

"Babe?" Brendon kisses his temple, noticing that Patrick is looking like he's trying to fight off sleep. "You tired?"

A lazy smile tugs on the corner of Patrick's lips. "Never realized how tired I am until just now."

"You've been working since morning. Of course you'd be tired." Brendon laughs softly and kisses him again, and while he grabs a small pillow from the couch, Patrick pulls his boxers and pajama bottoms back up. Brendon places the pillow on the floor and lays both of them on the floor with Patrick cuddled up next to him.

"Still stressed out about the papers?" Brendon questions, keeping his voice low. He knows how Patrick dislikes it when there are loud noises if he's sleepy. Patrick shakes his head and kisses his jaw. "Not anymore. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it," Brendon says as he wraps his arms around the older man. Patrick buries himself closer to him, sighing. "Sorry I didn't get you off."

Brendon doesn't mind about it. Tonight is all about Patrick, and plus, he doesn't like seeing Patrick all upset. If this is a way to get Patrick to relax, then by all means, he'd do it again in a heartbeat, even if Patrick doesn't return the favour. "It's okay. I don't mind, really."

"I think I can finish everything by midnight, or tomorrow morning the latest. Just-" Patrick pauses to yawn, and Brendon may or may not have swooned a little when the older man rubs his eyes with his fist. _He's so adorable._ "-just let me take a nap first. Then we can do whatever you want tomorrow."

Oh, there are so many things he wants to do to make up for the lost time. He wants to go to that cute diner for breakfast - although he knows it's going to end up as brunch - that he's 100% positive Patrick would absolutely love. And then he wants to play a few rounds of paint ball or maybe laser tag and all the games in escape room, and maybe make out with Patrick somewhere in the middle. And then they'll go to the park or the hills and lie down under the tree for a quick afternoon nap. And, _oh_ , he remembers there's a carnival going on in another town. They're definitely going there. Hopefully they don't run into anyone from the university, especially Professor Wentz. Or Dallon. Or Ryan.

Or worse, the three of them _at the same time._

And then, when they get back at night, maybe…

…if they still have the energy…

…maybe he can convince Patrick to try out one of his fantasies.

_"Ah- Mr Urie, h- harder!"_

Or maybe a little roleplaying…

_"P- please, Mr Urie- let me come, and I- ah- I'll raise your grades up-"_

How fucking hot is _that?_

"You know," Brendon starts, but he waits until Patrick gives some sort of sign that he's listening, which he does by humming questioningly, to continue, "I can't wait for tomorrow."

"Am I going to be sore on Monday?"

Brendon laughs and pulls him closer, dropping a kiss on his head. "Your Monday classes don't even start until noon."

"Doesn't mean I don't have to go in by 8." Patrick mumbles, his words slurring together from drowsiness. Brendon gazes at the older man in adoration. A 29 year old man should not be this precious. "Get some rest, babe."

Patrick makes a noise at the back of his throat, but his eyes are already closed. Brendon smiles one last time before he follows suit, loving the feeling of snuggling up next to a warm and cuddly Patrick. He's just about to doze off himself when he feels Patrick's body goes taut. He cracks his eyes open, worried. "Babe?"

"Oh my god." Patrick mutters as he shoves Brendon off and scrambles to the coffee table, grabbing a few test papers and scrutinizing them. "Oh my god. Oh my god. This is not happening. _Oh my god._ "

Confused, Brendon scoots to where Patrick is to find out what the problem is, and he bursts into laughter when he gets his answer.

Some of the test papers have Patrick's come on them, some big, some small. "Oh my fucking god." Brendon roars in laughter again as he clutches his sides.

"It's not funny, Bren!" Patrick hisses and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. Brendon doesn't stop laughing though, especially when Patrick's face is all red while trying to get the stains off frantically. "Bren! How am I supposed to give the students their papers back?!"

His laughter dissolves into snickers, and he cranes his neck to look at his boyfriend. "You don't have to return them back. I know some professors don't."

"But I _always_ give them back. They're going to ask why if I don't. What am I supposed to say then?" Patrick's voice becomes quiet, sad and frustrated, his face already showing some stress lines. Brendon, feeling pity for him, takes a few tissues and helps him to clean up. As much as he loves seeing Patrick getting all flustered, he draws the line when Patrick starts to become upset by it.

"You can tell 'em that some other professor needs those papers for reference? So they can make questions or something." Brendon suggests.

"Why not just give them the soft copy?" Patrick remarks back, his frown deepening at the stains left behind. "Fuck."

"Hey." Brendon calls him softly when Patrick's eyes shine red with frustration. Patrick is, without a doubt, the most wonderful professor (and person) he's ever known- honest, genuine, passionate, always puts his students first. It's why he fell in love with the professor in the first place. "You're going to be okay, alright? I know everyone in my year, and they don't give a damn, trust me. We never look back at all our papers when you guys return them. I even forgot where I put my papers."

Patrick is quiet, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, and when Brendon looks closer, his lips are quivering. He drops the tissue onto the table and pulls Patrick into a hug. "Let's just call it a night. You can finish your work tomorrow, and then I'll cook something nice for us. We'll just hang out and watch movies. What do you say?"

Patrick doesn't say a word, but the small nod of his head is enough of an answer for Brendon. He pulls Patrick up and leads them to the bedroom. Once inside the bedroom, he grabs a clean shirt from the drawer, handing it to Patrick. Patrick takes off his shirt and replaces it with the clean one, leaving the come-stained shirt in the dirty hamper.

The older man immediately curls up under the sheets, and Brendon slides in next to him, arm thrown over Patrick's waist.

"You're gonna be okay, alright?" Brendon murmurs into his hair, reassuring him once again. "Everything will be fine. I promise you that. If it doesn't, then you can yell at me all you want."

Patrick breathes out softly against his neck. "Okay."

-

When Monday comes, while waiting for Dallon and Ryan to finish with their class, Brendon sits at their usual table in the cafeteria, eating his lunch as he goes through his notes for tomorrow's quiz.

"Hey."

Brendon looks up to see his two friends at the table, the movement causing his glasses to slide down the bridge of his nose a little. Dallon sits across him, and Ryan beside him. He swallows the food in his mouth and pushes his glasses up, greeting them back. "Hey, how was class?"

He normally doesn't ask how their class goes, but he can't help it, considering that both Dallon and Ryan were in Patrick's class earlier.

His eyebrow quirks up when Dallon shares a look with Ryan before they both shrug. "Weird," Ryan says as he takes out his bottle of water, uncapping it. "I mean, I thought for sure we're getting our papers back today, but Professor Stumph didn't return them."

"Yeah?" Brendon casually asks, although deep down, he's starting to freak out. How can he forget? Dallon and Ryan are, like, the two biggest nerds _ever_. Of course they're going to think something's up.

"Uh huh." Dallon nods as he steals one of Brendon's fries. Brendon rolls his eyes at him and drinks his soda. "Weird, right? Professor Stumph always returns our papers. So I asked him-"

Brendon spits out the soda he's been drinking and coughs when they get into his lungs. Ryan rubs his back until the coughing subsides. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Peachy." Brendon waves him off and looks back to Dallon. "You _what?_ "

He pales when Dallon glares at him. Dallon's face is dripping wet from the soda he spat out earlier. The taller man grabs the napkin in Brendon's tray and wipes his face with it, then throws it in Brendon's face. "I asked Professor Stumph why he didn't return our papers."

Brendon almost bangs his head against the table. _Almost._ He takes in a deep breath instead. "Why?"

Dallon seems to misunderstand him, though, and Brendon is thankful for that. He means to ask _why_ he asked Patrick that, not _why_ Patrick didn't return their papers.

Because he knows he's partly responsible for it.

"Apparently some professor wants to use our papers for reference or something?" Dallon shrugs.

"But isn't it weird?" Ryan piques up. "Professor Stumph can just give them the soft copy. Why our papers though?"

Oh good god. _Patrick had been right._ Looks like he has to prepare himself for when Patrick yells at him later.

"You know what's even weirder?" Dallon asks as he steals a fistful of french fries. "Professor Stumph when we asked him about it. He got all red and flustered."

"Do you think he lost our papers?" Ryan asks, worried. Dallon furrows his brows and shakes his head. "Nah. Not possible. I don't think he's that type of professor, y'know?"

Brendon's face starts to heat up. He covers it up by propping his elbows on the table, and with the sleeves pulled over his fingers, he places them over his pink cheeks. "Aren't you guys hungry?"

"Starving." Ryan answers, and he moves to go check out the food. Brendon drops his hands, relieved at the dropped subject, but then his breath is caught in his throat when he realizes that Dallon is still there, eyeing him suspiciously. "What?" Brendon asks, playing it cool. Shit, does Dallon know? Did he catch him blushing? Is he _still_ blushing?

"Don't spit on my stuff while I'm gone," Dallon says after a few seconds and flicks Brendon's ear before standing up to follow Ryan. Brendon flips off at his retreating back as he rubs his ear, scowling at the pain.

He hopes that Dallon's paper is the one that got the most stain. That'll serve that fucker right.

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha I am ashamed *covers face*
> 
> So, as you can see, slpblue and I have turned this professor!Patrick and student!Brendon AU into a series, and we're in the process of writing the full fic! It's going to be freaking awesome, trust me.
> 
> Leave some comments! (And Happy New Year!)


End file.
